Riding the Nightmare by Lisa Tuttle

Author:Lisa Tuttle [Tuttle, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2023-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

The day passed peacefully enough, soundtrack supplied by Radio One, as she painted the upstairs room they’d designated as the nursery. The light, buttery yellow would be a good choice for a child of either sex, although she still thought about wallpaper for one wall, pattern to be chosen when she knew she was expecting.

She talked to J.D. around eight, assured him she was coping. He said he’d try to phone her back later, but if he hadn’t, she should phone him at bedtime. She agreed, although she wasn’t sure what counted as bedtime when they were apart. She was quite tired by ten, but the thought of going to bed alone made her linger downstairs, drinking the rest of a bottle of wine and watching some rubbish film until she nearly fell asleep on the couch. Then she staggered upstairs, fell into bed and a light, woozy sleep.

A sound, something her sleeping mind recognized without alarm, brought her awake, not frightened, but utterly bewildered. What time was it, and what night? She could feel the still, solid presence of the man sleeping beside her. But if J.D. was home, whose was the key in the door downstairs?

Laying one hand on a sheeted shoulder she whispered, ‘J.D.! Honey, wake up!’

From downstairs came the familiar sequence of beeps that meant the alarm system was being disarmed. But who else knew their code? Maybe somebody from the security company, but . . .

‘Honey?’ Still more confused than frightened, she fumbled for the light switch on the hanging cord, and heard someone mounting the stairs.

‘J.D!’ She said his name, loud and urgent, as the light came on, and she sat up, shutting her eyes briefly against the flare of light as she tugged at the sheet which he’d pulled up over his head. ‘Honey, wake up.’

Then she saw what was lying next to her, curled on his side in an almost fœtal position, naked brown skin like ancient leather, face beneath the close-­fitting cap serenely smiling in death, and the terrified scream that rose in her throat strangled her, cutting off not only sound but breath. In the instant before she blacked out, she saw her husband standing in the doorway, staring at the bed – but not at her.

Mere seconds later, when she came to, that’s when she screamed out loud. Recoiling in horror, she jerked convulsively up and out of the bed before she noticed that it was empty.

She stopped in the doorway, clutching at the doorframe for support, and looked again. Not only was the bed empty, the bedclothes were disturbed only on the side where she had been. There was no depression to indicate that any other head had rested on J.D.’s pillows since she’d plumped them up after making the bed that morning. But J.D. seen him – she had seen the direction of his gaze and, more importantly, the look on his face; a look she knew she would never forget.

‘J.D.?’ She tried to call, but her voice was little more than a whisper.

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